


This Isn't What It Looks Like

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Winchester In Love, F/M, Good Friend Sam Winchester, Hurt, Jealous Dean Winchester, Jealousy, Love, Misunderstandings, Sam is too cute for words, Thoughts of unrequited love, You just want some dang love in your life!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling upset over the seeming 'no-man's-land' of your relationship with Dean, you are comforted by Sam.</p><p>When Dean returns from his visit to the local bar to have an important conversation with you, he sees you and Sam together, and misinterprets the situation horribly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misinterpretation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some sweet angst (that will end happily, I swear!) :3 
> 
> The picture I've inserted...well, let's just say- I thought it would evoke more emotion. Because I'm a cruel person like that XD
> 
> Hope it's alright and worthy of a second chapter? :D Please enjoy, lovely souls <3

                                                                         

You were curled up on the motel room's armchair, its stale, dusty odour wading into your nostrils each time you sniffed. Wiping your wet eyes with the back of your hand, you let out a choked sob. Before long, a fresh wave of tears spilt down your cheeks, staining them once more. The TV remote lay discarded on the small coffee table beside you, where'd you dropped it after switching off the movie that had so unpleasantly reminded you of your situation with Dean. With a heart-wrenching whimper, you tucked your knees up to your chest and lay your forehead against them, wrapping your arms around your shins.

Oblivious to the motel door being opened, you stayed curled up in your little ball of sorrow, shaking with sobs every once in a while. That was until you heard your name being called softly, and the rustling of a plastic carrier bag as it's bulky contents were set down.

"[Y/N]? Hey, what's up?" Sam's voice was gentle. Looking up at him, he saw your watery, red eyes and rushed forward, crouching down in front of you. "[Y/N], what happened? Where's Dean gone?" He added, glancing briefly around the room.

"I was stupid, Sam, I was watching sappy, romantic tragedy while you went off to pick up some food. Dean took off for a drink at the bar, said not to 'wait up' for him," you explained, through your tears.

"Did something...happen between you two?" Sam held your hands, still wet with tears and mascara smudges. You shook your head, pressing your lips together to stop them quivering.

"Uh-uh, nope...I just...watching that movie- this is gonna sound so freaking pathetic....reminded me of what's going on. Y'know, with Dean-" You stared down Sam's large hands encompassing yours, almost too ashamed to look him in the eye, despite being aware those eyes of his would be full only of sympathy rather than judgement.

"[Y/N], I'm so sorry you're feeling this way," Sam offered his sincerest apologies.

"Nah, Sam, I'm sorry for using you as a sounding board about trivial crap like this," you swept your thumb lightly across his knuckles, an affectionate gesture for a dear friend.

"Your feelings aren't trivial, [Y/N]. They matter," Sam assured you wisely. You smiled tearfully at him, and he smiled back with a comforting warmth.

"And they say guys aren't comfortable with emotions," you commented ironically, making Sam's smile split into an amused grin.

"Ah, well, y'know, we're acclimating to the concept," he joked, drawing a soft giggle from you, "Some of us just aren't as good with feelings as others."

 

"That sounded like a pointed remark, Sam," you said.

"Dean. He's not so...good with his own feelings," Sam replied awkwardly.

"Is this some convoluted way of telling me Dean's just struggling to admit he feels the same way I do? 'Cause if it is, as sweet as it is of you to try and make me feel better, Sam, raising my hopes isn't the best thing to do," you said plaintively.

"I'm not gonna feed you crap just to make you feel better, [Y/N], I wouldn't do that to you. I genuinely think my brother loves you...it's just his...alarmingly low self-esteem gets in the way," Sam sighed, shaking his head at his brother's troubled psyche.

"If you say so," you muttered, unconvinced.

"Sounds like Dean's not the only one with self-esteem issues," Sam pointed out, casting you a disappointed look. Flashing a rueful smile at him, you looked away.

"I have a decent self-esteem, but lately it's been getting stamped on," you answered vaguely, feeling like a petulant teenager all over again.

"Don't let anyone bring you down, [Y/N], you're incredible. As much as I love him, Dean would be nuts to turn you away and I'd never fail to tell him that. He should consider himself lucky," Sam ruffled your hair amiably.

"Thank you, Sammy," you said demurely, squeezing his hands.

"Anytime," he told you, with the heart warming sincerity of a true friend, "C'mon, you look exhausted, let's get you into bed." He rose to his feet, urging you get up from the armchair.

 

"Trying to get me in bed already? For shame, Sam, taking advantage of an emotional wreck like me," You teased impishly. Sam snorted, throwing an arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

"My hidden agenda all along. I have some flavoured lube and whipped cream in the takeout bag," he played along, pulling back the duvet of your bed and encouraging you to slide in.

"Sweet! Sounds like my kinda night," you rallied back with a giggle, "Sam, I don't think I can sleep. I mean, I'm not even ready for bed."

"You don't have to sleep. Just relax and settle down," he told you as you nestled up beneath the quilt.

"Don't think I can do that still," you admitted sadly.

"Do you want me to hug you for a while?"

"Please," you nodded eagerly. There was nothing sexual or romantic about your relationship with Sam, it was a purely platonic love. He would often hold you if you felt distressed or upset by something, the gesture being no different to a brother consoling his sister.

"Sure thing, just-" Sam removed his jacket and pulled off his boots, casting them aside before climbing into the bed. Pulling the quilt up around you both, he then pressed himself against your back, wrapped an arm around your waist and began gently combing his fingers through your hair. It was guaranteed to soothe you. As expected, mere minutes later, you felt considerably better; the grief drained away as solace took its place.

"Sammy, thank you..." You whispered tiredly, eyes fluttering closed.

"Get some sleep, [Y/N]," he whispered back, placing another kiss on the top of your head. He felt warm and safe, his gentle touch distracting you from the discomfort of what you believed to be unreciprocated love. For a few moments, you didn't have anything to fret over or stress about; the security of Sam holding you keeping the monsters at bay. It was precious moments such as these that you cherished, those fleeting sensations of complete safety and sanctuary; rarely occuring since having taken up the mantle of 'hunter'. Letting yourself finally  _ **relax**_ , it took little time for you to drift off.

* * *

 Dean pulled up to the motel parking lot, stopping in front of the room he shared with [Y/N] and Sam. Switching off the ignition, he remained in the Impala, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He was terrified of finally telling her how he felt, even though he'd spent the past two hours, staring at a beer, gearing himself up for the occasion. The bartender had even offered a few sage words of advice-

" _ **Quite bein' a wuss and tell her, for Christ's sake, or you'll regret never sayin' anything!**_ "

But the mere thought of speaking the words twisted his insides up, filled his head with doubts and self-criticisms...

To tell somebody that your mind is consumed by thoughts of them, your heart aches for their presence, that their love is some kind of cure to a beautiful, horrible sickness...well, he wouldn't phrase it quite so poetically (or melodramatically)- it was terrifying. He'd would rather have tackled an entire nest of vampires by himself than step into that motel room and finally confess how he felt for [Y/N].

Would she feel the same way? Or would he be too damaged for her? Not quite what she needed in a lover? _**Not good enough**_?

She was especially close to Sam, the two of them were always deep in discussion about something or other. _**Maybe she was in love with Sam**_? Dean couldn't count the number of times he'd see them together, hugging or cosied up on the couch making fun of whatever lousy TV show they'd decided to watch. Hell, they even ate and researched together, practically glued at the hip.

 _ **Did he have a chance**_? Dean had glimpsed the odd looks [Y/N] threw his way and noticed how she'd become more distant in recent months- though not to say he hadn't become distant himself. Was it possible she felt the same way but was just as uncertain as he was?

He had to take the risk. If she rejected him, so be it. Dean knew, at least, [Y/N] would let him down gently; she was fundamentally a kind-hearted woman. She wouldn't humiliate him, that was completely out of her nature.

He had to try. He had to tell her.

 

Taking a deep breath, Dean stepped out of Baby and retrieved his room key from the depth of his jeans' pocket. Fumbling around getting the key in the lock, he felt his nerves begin to take a hold on him, so he paused and leant his forehead against the door. Breathing in slowly, he turned the key in the lock, heart hammering and stomach flipping like he'd downed too many shots. When finally heard the click of the lock, he eased the door open and expected to see [Y/N] and Sam eating takeout food or watching TV together. Staring into the room, he did not expect to see them snuggled up together in bed, fast asleep.

Sam was holding [Y/N] from behind, his arms around her waist, lips almost brushing her shoulder by the way his head was bent forward. [Y/N] was deep in a blissful slumber, eyelashes fluttering every so often, one hand draped over Sam's while the other lay- palm facing up- on the pillow.

Dean puckered his lips into a contemplative pout before pressing them together, a distinctly unpleasant stirring in his chest. He tried to look elsewhere in the room; the corner of the ceiling, the carpet, the chipped paint on the walls, but his eyes kept shifting their gaze back to Sam and [Y/N]. They appeared fully dressed, like they'd not prepared for sleep or to hold each other the way they were- but that hurt just as much. It was more tender, the spontaneity of it more passionate and heart-wrenching than finding them laying in one another's arms, sweat soaked and naked.

Sucking down a breath to try and alleviate the painful ache in his chest, Dean removed his jacket and hung it up. While dropping his car keys and the motel room key on the desk, he heard the rustle of sheets from behind him and turned to look. In her sleep, [Y/N] had rolled onto her other side so her face was mere inches from Sam's, their noses almost touching. Though he was asleep, Sam- on some subconcious whim- shuffled upward, repositioning his arms so he appeared to be hugging [Y/N] and rested his chin on top of her head, leaving her face close to the crook of his neck.

 

There was a lump in Dean's throat, as an immense sadness and _**bitterness**_ welled inside of him.

 _ **Well, don't they look so goddamn good together?**_ He thought... _ **jealously**_.

 _ **Of course she'd pick Sammy. They're two of a frickin' kind,**_ he ruminated, heading towards the bathroom to prepare for sleep.

Dean thought how calm she looked, her beautiful face so much more peaceful than he'd ever seen it. Christ, he was sure he'd spotted her smiling sweetly for a few seconds. He was pleased that she was finally looking happier than she'd done for the past few months; it just burned on the inside that Sam was the one making her feel that way and _**not him**_. Yet he was glad Sam had found someone, especially someone as incredible as [Y/N].

But there it was: that sour, underlying envy, the question which was cutting deep into his heart-

_**Wasn't I good enough for her?** _

* * *

Sleep and Sam's comforting presence brought you the sweetest of dreams...

You and Dean were sat together on the couch, watching some movie that was entirely indistinguishable, and his arm was casually slung around your shoulders. Nervously, you lay your head on his shoulder and glanced up at him fondly. He looked at you, a handsome smile spreading across his face. In response, you beamed up at him, giggling softly. His free hand moved to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing your bottom lip lightly.

" _I love you, [Y/N]_ " he told you softly.

" _I love you too, Dean,_ " you replied, a small yet tender smile on your face.

For a moment, you were vaguely aware you were smiling in real life....


	2. Confrontation

Feeling the warmth of morning sunlight on his face, Dean blearily opened his eyes and began looking around the motel room. From his spot on the couch, he noticed Sam and [Y/N] were in their own beds- they must have woken through the night and realised they were both still fully clothed. [Y/N] was in the bed nearest to the couch, facing Dean, and curled up beneath her duvet. With a sigh, Dean stretched his limbs and threw back his blankets, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch so he could sit straight. [Y/N] stirrred, her eyes cracking open only slightly so it appeared as though she were glaring at the offending sunshine. There was a small wrinkle between her eyebrows as she frowned, her eyes adjusting to the light. Given that she was bundled up in her quilt, with only her head poking out, [Y/N] gave the impression of a disgruntled hamster being rudely awoken.

That was usually how she woke up, and despite having seen it countless time, Dean still found it incredibly cute.

Then he remembered the night before- [Y/N] cosied up to Sam in bed...

"Morning, Dean," her voice was soft and a little drowsy. She smiled sweetly over at him, the outer corner of her eyes crinkling- and Dean felt a little piece of himself melt on the inside. Knowing that his brother would be on the receiving end for a majority of those beautiful smiles, Dean felt that horrid ache in his chest he'd so badly tried to ignore.

"Hey, [Y/N]," he replied, before pushing himself up off the couch and making a beeline for the bathroom.

 

"What time did you get back?" [Y/N] asked, stretching her body out and yawning.

"Oh, I dunno, I didn't check. You and Sam were out of it when I got back, that's as much as I know," Dean answered stiffly. _**You and Sam were asleep in bed, together, holding each other while I spent two hours trying to get my shit together so I could tell you how I feel,**_ he resisted the urge to spit out. [Y/N]'s eyebrows rose, almost undetectably. _**Does she realise I saw her with Sammy ?**_

"Aw, okay. Did you, um, have a good time?" She asked, wriggling up the bed into a seated position.

"Not bad," Dean shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door.

"Great, that's great," [Y/N] nodded, smiling across at him. Dean wondered why she'd begun this line of questioning, whether it was a way of hedging around the subject of her and Sam being an 'item', "Any, um, luck with the ladies?" She inquired, faking a jaunty attitude. Dean decided to embellish the truth considerably, in order to mask any momentary fissure in his act brought on by his wounded feelings.

"Ah, there were a few offers on the table, if ya know what I mean," he smirked, "One cutie in particular who caught my eye...might go back tonight and see if her 'offer' still stands." Bracing himself on the doorframe, cocky grin in place, he knew that he-superficially- oozed devil-may-care sexual confidence. On the inside, however, he was still hurting, still reeling from the notion of [Y/N] being in love with Sam.

"Oh. That's good! Glad you had such a...fruitful endeavour," [Y/N] smiled again, but it lacked her usual compassion. _**That why she doesn't love me? 'Cause I sleep around. She thinks I'm a scumbag or something?**_

"Thanks, princess," he winked at her, before retreating into the bathroom and shutting the door. As soon as he closed the door, Dean pressed his back to it and dragged his fingers through his hair in agitation, shutting his eyes and willing himself not to let the hurt split him open.

* * *

 _ **Of course,**_ you thought to yourself with a heaving sigh of disappointment, _**he's got himself another stunning lady friend to keep him company. He really doesn't give a damn about me.**_

You were dragged from your downward spiral by Sam rousing from sleep. With a tired groan, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and yawned loudly, throwing his quilt off.

"Y'okay, [Y/N]?" He asked, brushing a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Yeah," you said unconvincingly. Sam gave you a knowing look, and on cue, you told the truth. "No. Dean's just acting **_off_**   with me. He even told me about some girl he met at the bar last night, told me how he's got her practically lined up for him. What was I thinking, Sam? I'm way out of my depth here, he doesn't have any feelings for me." You kept your voice hushed, leaning toward the younger Winchester.

"Maybe he's just talking crap to cover up for something? Or maybe he's trying to...I dunno...test you?" Sam suggested.

"Maybe," you repeated doubtfully, "Doesn't seem like a very 'Dean' thing to do, though."

"Don't give up, [Y/N], just...hold on, for a bit longer," Sam rose from his bed and perched on yours. He reached out to hold your hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

"Okay. I'll, um, _**persevere**_ ," you smiled wanly.

"Good," Sam said firmly, smiling back at you.

"Feel like giving your stinky friend a morning hug?" You inquired sweetly.

"Only if you're cool with being hugged by a friend who reeks way more than you do?" Sam joked.

"Eh, love has no sense of smell," you giggled in return, shuffling out from underneath your quilt and throwing your arms around Sam.

 

The bathroom door opened and you glanced up to see Dean casually stride out. As he spotted you and Sam in the midst of a companionable embrace, you noticed a strange expression on his face. It looked like something verging on _**irritation**_. Mere seconds after having your spirits lifted, they tumbled down yet again.

"How's it goin', Sammy?" Dean questioned his brother, in that gruff tone of his.

"Pretty good. We going out for breakfast?" Sam asked in turn, still hugging you.

"Sure thing. Gotta have me some pie," Dean threw his arms out in a jovial gesture, making his younger brother snort.

"Of course you do," Sam chuckled. Dean smiled, gathering up clean clothes from his duffel bag. However, the moment Sam turned his head, Dean's amiable smile vanished.

"Shower's mine, _**ladies**_ ," he declared, striding back to the bathroom. You saw Sam roll his eyes and shake his head fondly, and couldn't help but laugh at the brotherly ribbing between the two of them. Throwing a cursory glance back at Dean, you noticed something rather curious. Before closing the door to the bathroom, he was casting the most unfathomable of looks at you.

 _ **What's that all about?**_ You wondered.

 

After you all had cleaned yourselves up, you were out of the motel room and piling into the Impala. Just as Dean took his place at the wheel and shut the door, Sam gently halted you in your tracks before you slid into the backseat.

"Look, you may not have seen it, but I swear to you that Dean's been flashing love-sick puppy eyes your way all morning. I'm telling you, he feels the same way you do. I'm gonna pretend I need the bathroom before we go, give you two some alone time so you can try and talk to him," he insisted, with a sincere expression of determination.

"You really believe he likes me?" You cocked an eyebrow up.

"I do, I can see it in his face, [Y/N]. Why do you doubt yourself so much? How could he _**not**_ like you?" Sam inched his face forward to emphasise his point, giving you an encouragingly sweet smile.

"Okay, okay, I'll talk to him. If things are painfully awkward when you get back in the car, you'll know it went wrong," you snorted.

"It'll be fine, trust me! Now, go for it, [Y/N], I'm gonna give you guys ten minutes," he threw his arms around you, giving you a warm hug then broke away to turn back to the motel room. With a resigned sigh, you turned to see Dean _**watching**_ you from the driver's seat. You made the assumption he was wondering why his brother had suddenly jogged back to the motel room, and a small smile ghosted on your lips when you imagined his reaction to discovering Sam's pretence of visiting the bathroom was all part of an ill-devised plot to get you two together.

You decided to join him on the front bench seat of the car, taking Sam's place as passenger. Dean uttered no complaint.

"What's up with Sammy?" He asked casually. _**Yeah, shoulda figured it wasn't me he was attentive to,**_ you thought.

"Had to use the bathroom. Said he'd be about ten minutes," you told him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Ten minutes? What? He needs another mornin' dump-"

"I don't think we need to discuss the fine details, Dean," you wrinkled your nose, holding up your hands as if to cease the grim line of conversation.

"'Course. Sorry. Where'd my manners go?" He said absently, staring off into the distance. There was a momentary silence between you, filled only by the light drumming of Dean's fingers against the steering wheel. You racked your brains, thinking desperately of some way to bring up the topic of 'you and Dean'. Feeling the minutes tick by, you grew more frustrated and distressed, dithering and stalling in your mind. You worried your ten minute window of privacy with Dean would shrink to nothing, but much to your surprise, it was Dean who piped up.

 

"So, um...you and Sammy...?" He broached uncomfortably. Frowning, you turned to look at him, puzzled by his query.

"What about me and Sam?" You asked.

"You two...are you two- _**together**_?" Deans sucked in a breath, stretching back in his seat stiffly.

"Um, no. We're just friends, Dean. Why'd you ask?"

"'Cause, I dunno...you two seem real close. You don't have to keep it secret, if that's what you're worried about?"

"Dean, I'm not worried, because there's no secret. Me and Sam aren't an item," you couldn't help but smile at the hunter, who cast a sideways glance at you.

"Really? You're always together, you got the same interests, you two...seem pretty physical with each other," he pointed out. You raised an eyebrow at Dean.

"'Physical'? Dean, we hug, we're not groping each other. We're close friends, that's it. A guy having similar interests and qualities doesn't automatically qualify them as 'boyfriend material'. Not that Sam wouldn't be a good boyfriend, just...I'm not into him like that, nor him me. We're strictly platonic," you explained.

"Well, okay, but why were you two sleepin' together last night?" Dean asked, avoiding your eyes.

 

"What?"

"When I got back last night, you two were...cuddled up to each other in bed. Why's that? That didn't seem 'platonic' to me," he sounded _**bitter**_. _**Wow...does he actually find me so repellent that the thought of me dating his brother annoys him?**_ You thought affrontedly.

"It _**was**_. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it, Dean, I was upset and he was there to comfort me. End of!"

"By spoonin' with you?!" Dean finally met your eyes, with a blazing ferocity in his expression.

" _ **Hugging**_ me! That's beside the point, why are you so mad at me being close to Sam?! It's like you're pissed off at the mere notion of me and him dating, _**even though we're not**_! What?! Am I not good enough for Sam?! Am I _**not attractive enough**_?!" Your face contorted with rage. Dean's own fury transitioned into confusion.

"What?!"

"You heard me! You clearly find me repellent in some shape or form, otherwise you wouldn't be so mad over a non-existent relationship!"

"What? [Y/N], I don't...what are ya talkin' about?" Dean appeared genuinely baffled.

"I'm not good enough for _**you**_ or Sam, is that right?"

"[Y/N], no, I-"

"Just be honest with me, Dean, tell me the truth," you demanded wearily. Dean stared at you, a glimpse of something different in his eyes... _ **fear**_? Was he afraid of something?

"I saw you two and thought you were together. I didn't feel pissed that Sammy might have decided to be with ya, [Y/N], I was..." Dean searched for a word, face scrunching as though it was a great physical effort to speak it, " _ **Upset**_."

"What for?" You asked, a little curtly.

"'Cause it broke my heart thinkin' you'd picked Sammy," he admitted.

 

You were rendered speechless, staring aghast at the hunter. Dean, on the other hand, looked sheepish, almost reticent for- what was likely- the first time in his life. Gone was the confident swagger and brazen attitude, and in its place was a clearly vulnerable, tender-hearted man.

"Y'know, I spent those two hours at the bar just...tryin' to find the right words to say to ya. Had a whole speech planned for when I got back. I finally had the balls to tell you I'm in love with you. Then I see you and Sammy, in bed, close to each other...and it cut me up, [Y/N]," Dean confessed.

You elected to stay quiet, allowing Dean to continue speaking.

"Like, I was happy for you both. You seemed so peaceful, most peaceful I've ever seen you in a long time. Sammy...well, I was glad that, of all the women he could have ended up with, it was _**you**_. Even if it did make me feel like shit," he said. Then, looking you straight in the eyes, he told you, "It ain't a case of _**you**_ not being good enough. You're perfect, sweetheart. I thought...I've been thinkin' since then... ** _I'm_**   not good enough for **_you_**."

"Dean," you said so softly you were barely audible.

"So, yeah, I've been...Christ, this sounds corny...pretty _**jealous**_. Very jealous, actually. Now, findin' out you and Sam ain't even a thing, I'm real glad. Sure, I feel like an asshole for sayin' all the stuff earlier and actin' weird this mornin'- like that bullshit with the 'girl at the bar', there was no girl. Just me, some beer and a helpful bartender," he huffed out a singular chuckle, mirthlessly. You reached out and held his hand, squeezing it gently. "I just said that stuff 'cause-" He shook his head, looking down into his lap, clearly flummoxed by his own behaviour. "I don't even know why I said that stuff."

 

You shuffled along the bench seat so you were pressed close to Dean. When he returned his gaze to yours, his beautiful green eyes were so full of sincerity and sadness.

"Point is, [Y/N], I love you. I've workin' up the nerve to tell you for a while. These past few months, I felt like...you were puttin' out signs, y'know? Then there were times I wasn't really sure. One thing I've known for sure is that you've got me hung up on ya like crazy. I'm not sure if you feel the same. I hope ya do, obviously, but if you don't...I get it. I figure, from your perspective, I'm an arrogant, screwed-up jackass who sleeps around constantly. Not your kind of 'boyfriend material'," he said.

"Dean, do you really want to know how I feel about you?" You questioned him.

"Do I?" He asked in turn, doubtful of a positive outcome. That was when you lay your hands on either side of his face, leaned forward and kissed him; softly, tenderly and carefully on the lips. A wonderful euphoria lifted you; this embrace was sweeter than every one you'd ever dreamed of sharing with Dean. It made your insides flutter and your love for the hunter swell. When you broke away from the kiss, slowly, while still cupping his face, you asked him in a kittenish fashion-

"That answer your question, Winchester?"

Dean's face was an amusing combination of incredulity and triumph.

"Pretty much. Don't think I can argue with that," he replied, wonder-struck.

"Damn right you can't. I love you, Dean," you told him, running your fingers through his tawny hair. He leaned into your loving touch.

"I love you too," he said profoundly. "We probably still have more to talk about."

"Are you going chick-flick on me, Dean?" You teased, flashing him a radiant smile. The hunter blushed very slightly.

"Me? No! You kiddin'?" He dismissed the very idea as though it were preposterous.

"I don't entirely believe you. But yeah, we will talk more about all of this. First though, I wanna kiss you. _**A lot**_."

" _ **Awesome**_ ," was Dean's delighted response.

 

When Sam returned to the Impala after ten minutes, he noticed both you and Dean looking like mischievous teenagers who'd narrowly escaped a scornful lecture. He spotted the swollen lips, the confident, satisfied smirk on his brother's face, the tiny looks the both of you were exchanging and the way you two emanated a glow of contentment.

Daring to peek at him in the rear-view mirror, you offered a timid smile.

Sam returned it with a wink and a knowing smirk.

 _ **At last**_.


End file.
